Understanding
by whateverimcurrentlycalled
Summary: John is suffering from heartbreak, and Sherlock wants to help, but he just doesnt understand...


_Ok, well... this is my first Sherlock offering, based on the recent BBC adaptation, ratehr than the books, which ive never read... and i dont know if ill write any more or not, so... reviews are likely to spur me on to write more though, so if you like, REVIEW! pretty please... =D_

_(a couple of you have made comments to the effect of 'whats gonna happen now, how are you gonna continue.' I'd just like to say that this is intended as a oneshot, so there is **no** follow on... unless of course my frequently fried brain comes up with another neat little idea, then perhaps i may write another chapter, or separate oneshot. Probably not a whole big fanfic though, ive learnt from experience that i tend to lose it half way through when i try writing a whole story so... anyway, im rambling, and wasting your valuable reading time, so ill shut up now and let you get on with the story... enjoy!)_

**Disclaimer: i dont own Sherlock, sadly... If i did, there'd have been more than three episodes, and it wouldnt have stopped at such an annoying place! DX**

**Title: Understanding**

* * *

Bored... Sherlock thought as he lounged on the sofa. Why John seemed incapable of letting a week go by without spending at least one night sleeping at Sarah's he had no idea. John was in love, or thought he was. It wouldn't last, Sherlock was sure of that. John would get bored, people always do. Then he'd be back to spending his spare time in the flat. With Sherlock. Where he was supposed to be.

He sighed, contemplating the incident at the pool. It had been about a month since then, and there hadn't been a day when it hadn't crossed Sherlock's mind. He'd been about to shoot the bomb, but hesitated. He knew if he pulled the trigger, they'd all die there, John included, but he couldn't hurt John. Lestrade had shown up before he had a chance to work things out properly, and the whole mess had been averted.

At the time, he didn't understand, and that frustrated him. John was just another useless human being, he told himself. He didn't matter. Sacrificing them both to get rid of Moriarty was a perfectly acceptable loss. He didn't care about John. But then, he knew that wasn't entirely true.

He'd spent the past month thinking over and over those few moments when he had hesitated. Trying to work out why, trying to _understand_. The only conclusion he had come to, in a month's worth of deep thought and contemplation, was that he cared more for John than he would freely admit. Not as a boyfriend, or a lover, a conclusion people tended to jump to far too frequently. But as more than just another passing human being. Somehow, John mattered to him. He just needed to figure out _why_...

His thought was interrupted when heard Johns footsteps coming up the stairs. Fairly fast, but with a slight limp. Heavier on the left foot than the right. He'd left to go to Sarah's again, but he was back before the night had really begun, so...

Logical conclusion, they'd broken up. John couldn't have left her, he'd nothing but praise for her, every minute of the day. And the look in his eyes when he talked about her, it was sickening. Ergo, _Sarah_ left _him_, which produced a whole new set of problems...

John came through the door, with barely a glance at Sherlock, lounged on the sofa, going straight to the kitchen, rifling through the fridge.

'Sherlock?' he called. 'Where did you put my beer? It's not in the fridge.'

'You drank it, Tuesday night. Didn't buy any more.'

He heard a long sigh from the kitchen, and John wandered back in, falling into a chair, and slumping to teenage levels in it. Sherlock looked at him for a minute, before staring at the ceiling again.

'You're back early.'

'Yes.'

There was silence for a minute, then John let out a grim laugh.

'Oh come on Sherlock. I bet you worked it all out before I walked in the door.'

Sherlock nodded slightly, knowing that John knew he had, and that he'd figured it out right.

'You're never back early. Something went wrong. A break-up. You didn't break it up, you're so besotted with her it's sickening... Logical conclusion, _she_ left _you_.'

John winced slightly at the harshness of his phrasing, but said nothing.

'It was never going to last long. You were too alike' Sherlock shrugged. 'I never liked her anyway.'

John glared at him, and Sherlock turned his head slightly to face him.

'...not good?'

'You could say that, yeh...' John responded, continuing to glare.

'Well, I've never been in the situation myself, so you can't expect me to understand-'

'No, I suppose I can't,' John cut him off, a hint of anger in his voice. 'I shouldn't have come back here...' he muttered angrily to himself as he got up. He sighed and strode out the door.

'Where are you going?' Sherlock called, as John made his way down the stairs.

'Out,' John shouted back, a definite venom lacing the word.

Sherlock sighed. He'd be back, he always was. If not tonight, then definitely tomorrow. He'd be back.

* * *

It was lunchtime the following day. John hadn't come back. What if something had happened to him? Moriarty was never caught. Somehow, he escaped the officers at the pool. So it was feasible that he'd done something with John...

But he hadn't heard. If Moriarty had him, he'd have got in contact with Sherlock, if only to rub it in his face, and get a reaction. Although it was true he'd been 'reliably informed' of the absence of such a thing about his person, it was also true that wasn't entirely correct. Annoyingly, Moriarty had been right in that respect.

He'd never really thought about it too much until John. John mattered far more than anyone else ever had. He mattered, and Sherlock still hadn't worked out why. He had decided, however, that he definitely didn't want him getting hurt. In any way. He couldn't stop him from coming with him on cases, he was too stubborn, he was a part of it now, but he could do all in his power to protect him. To send him on the safer expeditions, and partake the more dangerous ones himself.

That was, of course, assuming he ever came back...

He'd established Moriarty didn't have him, but that didn't necessarily mean he was safe. A quick, if annoying, call to Sarah confirmed he hadn't gone running back to her like a lost puppy, begging to be taken back. He wouldn't go to his sisters, not with his current feelings of animosity towards her, and his own stubborn independence.

So where was he? And how could he get him back?

Sherlock missed him, he finally admitted. He was the one person he didn't see as just another stupid human being. He was an idiot, just like everyone else, and his powers of deduction left much to be desired, but he put up with his eccentricities, and he levelled Sherlock out in those rare times that he started to lose control.

He was someone to talk to, to rant to, to argue with. Someone who would come, whenever he text, especially if he mentioned danger...

That was it. He'd send him a text, saying there was something dangerous to do. He'd be sure to come back, probably still annoyed with him, but he'd come. Danger was the magic word he'd never been able to resist. True, he'd be lying, but if it brought him back, maybe then he could talk his way out of it...

No. That would just make John even more angry with him.

He sighed, and got up from the sofa to pace. He needed to think. Trouble was, it was never so straightforward with John. There was something a little different there. Plus, the central heating was making those stupid clunking noises again. It was distracting...

What did normal people need in Johns situation? He had no idea how it felt, it seemed so trivial, and unnecessary, so he'd never bothered with things like love, so never had what they called 'heartbreak'. So how was he supposed to understand, and how could he get him back _without_ understanding. It was so frustrating!

But perhaps if he got John to explain, if John helped him understand, maybe then he could help... He wanted to help. He could see John was hurt, he just... Sociopaths don't do feelings, even high-functioning ones. The words had just come out of his mouth before he'd realised. He just didn't _think_. And now John was angry with him. Properly angry. And hurt. He didn't want to hurt John, not if he could help it, because John was different. If he could just _understand_!

'Mrs. Hudson!' Sherlock called in desperation, hoping she would hear. Sure enough, he heard her footsteps on the stairs as she grudgingly came to see what he wanted.

'Really Sherlock, I'm not your slave. You really ought to learn how to do things yourself you know.'

'I need your help.' Sherlock said, stopping in his pacing, and turning to face her. She sighed.

'Well, what is it then Sherlock? Do you need something to eat? I thought you had takeaway menus. Doesn't John normally cook...'

'John's not here.' He replied.

'Oh. Has he gone to see that girl of his again? She's very nice. We had a lovely chat just the other day...'

'Mrs Hudson...'

'Sorry Sherlock. You were saying?'

'John's not here. I think I may have inadvertently said something wrong, and now he won't come back.'

'Well, have you tried talking to the girlfriend?' Sherlock just looked at her. 'Fine, just asking. Well surely he'll come back eventually. What did you say exactly?' Sherlock sighed. He'd have to explain it all to her if he wanted her help...

'Perhaps you should just tell him you're sorry, then maybe he'll come back' Mrs Hudson suggested when Sherlock had explained the situation. Sherlock frowned, but Mrs. Hudson just shrugged.

'It's all I can suggest Sherlock, unless you want to trail the streets of London looking for him.'

She went back downstairs, leaving Sherlock contemplating his not so many options. He sighed, pulling out his phone. If it was his only viable option...

_**John,**_

_**I'm sorry.**_

_**Please come back.**_

_**SH**_

He thought for a minute.

_**P.S. I need your help to understand...**_

He sent the text, silently praying it would work. If it didn't, he was out of options, and it was back to the skull...

* * *

John still hadn't returned. Sherlock was grumpy, lonely, and contemplating shooting the wall again, when he heard John's footsteps slowly making their way up the stairs. He leapt up and flung open the door.

John looked very bedraggled. It had been raining, and he hadn't taken his umbrella. Who knew where he'd been, or what he'd been doing. It was his expression that did it though. Sherlock had seen many people, relatives of loved ones who had been killed and the like, seen plenty of sad expressions. None of them touched him. Not one. But John, looking so depressed, as he squelched past, (_shoes must have had a hole in them, let the rain in_), slumping silently in the armchair, unlocked a little of the box of emotions he kept so securely in the back of his mind.

'John...' he breathed quietly, not really sure what to say. 'Where've you been? I was worried...'

'No you weren't.' He replied. 'You're never worried. Or scared. Or heartbroken...' John slouched lower in the chair, eyes down. 'Emotions mean nothing to you.'

'If...I can't...If I don't understand, how do you expect me to react? I don't know what you need, what you don't need, what I can say to help, what not to say.' He put his hands on his head in frustration. 'I just don't understand!'

He moved to stand just in front of his flatmate.

'John, help me understand...'

John frowned, and looked up slightly at Sherlock. He wanted to understand? But... that didn't make any sense.

'But... why...?' he questioned. Sherlock huffed and turned away.

'Why is it so hard!' he muttered to himself, before turning back to John.

'Look, feelings are... a complete mystery to me. They make no logical sense, I mean look at you. You're a mess, and all because of your feelings-'

'Sherlock...' John muttered resignedly.

'But _you_ feel, John. It's part of what makes you so... Its just part of you. And if we're living together, we should understand each other. So...I just... want to understand...' he trailed off, sure he sounded like a complete idiot, and started to turn away.

John stared at him for a minute. He could be wrong, but... was there a hint of genuine... feeling in Sherlock's eyes as he turned away? Sherlock sighed.

'Never mind.' He said, flomping onto the sofa, facing the wall, clearly annoyed with himself. 'Forget I said anything, You just... do whatever it is you need to do...'

They sat in silence for a minute.

'It's hard to describe...' John began quietly. Sherlock didn't move, but John knew he was listening to his every word.

'It's like someone's taken your heart and ripped it in two. Like they've just taken your world and stomped it into a pile of meaningless nothing.' Sherlock turned to face him.

'And although you know it's silly,' John continued. 'And you should just get over it, you can't...' He broke off.

'Like...thinking you've solved a case, and then discovering you were totally and utterly wrong?' Sherlock asked, frowning, trying to understand it in his own words. John shook his head, fiddling with a stray bit of thread on the arm of the chair.

'It's like losing everything you have in one short moment. But the world carries on around you, as if nothing ever happened. People out enjoying their lives, having fun, like you don't matter anymore. It makes you feel worthless...' He turned away, not wanting Sherlock to see the tears that threatened at the edge of his eyes.

Sherlock sat silently, not really sure what to say, or what he should do. He still didn't understand, not really. But in the end, did it really matter? All he needed to do now was get John back. Happy John. Sherlock, don't shoot holes in the wall John. John that responded to anything he said with the word 'Danger' in it. He just needed his John back.

'John...' he said quietly. He knew he should probably do something, hug him, or say something comforting. But he didn't know where to start...

'Um... would you like some tea?' he asked uncertainly. 'You probably haven't eaten much either, I can get you some cereal, I think we have milk left. Or some toast...' He got up and headed for the kitchen.

'Sherlock...?' He stopped, and went over to John, looking at him expectantly. John looked at him, still with tears in his eyes, but a tiny hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 'That was truly awful...'

Sherlock frowned.

'I don't... understand... John...' John smiled slightly.

'You don't go to someone who's upset, and offer them tea and toast...' he chuckled slightly. 'You're supposed to say something comforting, like "it'll all work out" or take them somewhere to take their mind off it, or something like that.'

'Well... I don't really know...' Sherlock said, looking a little unsure. John smiled at him, shaking his head in wonder.

Sherlock stared at him for a minute, then chuckled a little himself.

'Well, you're smiling, so... it worked didn't it?'

John laughed.

'Yeh... I guess it did... now, about that toast...'

* * *

_A/N: OK, my brain has too much stuff in it (completely useless stuff, and i do know the earth goes round the sun, have done for years...) but stuff nonetheless, and concentration wavers... frequently... So, you want more, throw me bait... Reviews are much loved, and are always replied to as a personal rule. You review, you get a little personal message from me as a thankyou for bothering to read **and** review my writing attempts! I do love people favouriting the story too though, so those of you who favourite, but dont review, get points too, just no personal replies as a reward...xD Aaaaaaand i think im rambling again... and it's bedtime... (midnight)... and i've got a 4 hour car journey to do tomorrow, so... night folks! I shall leave you in peace..._

**_(OK, anonymous reviews are really annoying cos i cant reply to them, so ill just have to embarrass you all here where everyone else can read it instead! maybe you should all get ffn accounts instead... xD , (haha love that name btw xD) Thanks so much for your lovely review. best one ive had so far (though i love all the others too! =D). It was great to have more detail than 'sherlock was in character', although thats good to know too! i loved the tea and toast bit too, though it wasnt my original plan. it just came out on the page and i thought i'd go with the flow... xD Its also heartening to know that im apparently not as rubbish as i think myself to be. generally speaking im an optimist, until it comes to my writing skills, when i become a major pessimist! Thanks once again for the review. made my day! ^^ _**

**_Also thanks to izzabella11, PrincessNala, StoryofGreen, and MrsStevenJigsaw098 (your review was awesome too. dont want you to kill me for not mentioning that...you know where i live! xD) for your reviews. Since yours were not anonymous, more review orientated comments have been sent as review replies personally. ^^_**

**_and yes, this MUST be in bold type. Thanks is important!)_**


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